Dark Eyes
by Corgin
Summary: Budapest reminded Clint of two people he no longer knew. It reminded him of when Natasha smiled, when he laughed, when friends shared secrets and nothing really mattered at the end of the night as long as you had each other… Budapest was truly a different time. A truly different time.


**Dark Eyes**

Clint x Natasha

Prologue: **Budapest**

By: **Thessaly Corgin**

o

_Budapest reminded Clint of two people he no longer knew. It reminded him of when Natasha smiled, when he laughed, when friends shared secrets and nothing really mattered at the end of the night as long as you had each other… Budapest was truly a different time. A truly different time._

**Budapest, some years ago…**

The city was beautiful, there was absolutely no doubt of that. It was chillingly cold but crystal clear, the perfect sky fading peacefully into the horizon, not plagued by a single cloud. The city was bright even though it was the dead of night as all of the building always appeared to be lit up at every hour of the day. What Clint knew as Christmas lights hung from even the tallest architecture, adorning every handrail and facade, dancing around the city like fireflies.

Clint of tired of the cold to say the least. While Natasha was given the privilege of sneaking down heated hallways or flaunting herself as an attractive guest at various galas, he sat perched on top of a nearby tower watching her every move. She stepped out of the car - her arm linked with a well known gangster - and spun in a circle, her red sequined dress flashing like fire as the older man admired her. After the spin he pulled her close (although he couldn't see clearly he assumed she looked up at him longingly) and kissed her, his wrinkled hand clutched firmly in her dark red hair. Clint knew the routine well enough, he'd watched it hundreds of times. They pulled away from each other and he heard Natasha's sharp laugh as she led the gang member into the gala.

He'd worked with the woman for years, and over that time their relationship had changed dramatically. At first he resented her: she was undeniably appealing and misleadingly sexy.. and he couldn't have any of it. He almost wondered if she purposefully tortured him by changing in front of him, asking him to do up her bra, making him wash her underwear. Eventually he came to terms with her attraction and respected her as a colleague - she was very talented after all. As time passed he slowly began to grow attached, forming a bond that he was beginning to feel was unbreakable. He was fiercely protective of Natasha, and every time he watched her lead a man into a building with the same playful grace and bounce in her step he felt sick to his stomach.

The second she set foot in the door he started his timer. In forty five and a half minutes he would swing down into the back window, creep up the hallway and lock himself in the bathroom. He already had complete plans of the building, so he knew exactly where to go. In a more eloquent world he would have simply gone to the gala himself, followed the gangster into the bathroom and shot him, but Natasha always insisted she did her work on the floor alone. After forty five minutes Natasha would excuse herself to the bathroom, and in 9 out of 10 cases her date would excuse himself as well, desperate not to waste any time away from her. So far in Budapest it had worked every time.

He wore gloves to conceal his hands and carried the same gangster's gun, which was both registered to the man and covered in his prints. In his pocket was an envelope with a suicide note, which he would quickly slip in the jacket of the man before he shot him and placed the gun. By then Natasha would be outside, and he would simply have to jump out the window and meet her back at the hotel.

He didn't understand why he had to do all of the dirty work - she was the supposed crazy Russian assassin. They only had one more gangster after their current target, then they would hopefully get to return back to headquarters and go somewhere slightly warmer. After forty five and a half minutes Clint found himself in the building, dressed in an inconspicuous suit to ensure he blended in with the rest of the gala. There was no one in the bathroom which made it quite easy to check for cameras (which there were none), shoot the gangster, plant the note and place the gun to make it look like suicide. Easy.

He had a bounce in his step as he slid out the window onto the snow, shutting the window back behind him. He had no idea who would find the dead man or if they would scream, because he would already be halfway back to the hotel before anyone would even go into the bathroom.

The hotel was dim but anonymous, supplying them with only a small room with a bathroom and bed. They were used to checking into places as a couple, as it made them seem much more like legitimate travelers. The place had asked neither questions or for ID, which made the pair much more comfortable with their stay. On top of that, the room had a fireplace. Clint loved fireplaces.

There was no denying that it had been an eventful stay, even though they'd only been there four days. They'd flipped cars, engaged in open gunfire in the streets, fought their group of delinquent gangsters hand to hand, and even burnt down a building by accident.

"There's something I want…"

She stepped out of the shadows and he gave her the satisfaction of looking surprised, even though he'd noticed her a few blocks back. She'd lost the red dress somewhere along the way, back into her sleek black suit - which meant trouble.

"I'm not stealing something for you. I've done that enough, and eventually Fury is going to figure it out and we're done."

"Come on Clint," she purred, "I'm not asking you to steal it. Just for your help."

"Natasha, we're going home. We've got one more guy, then we're going home. Don't do this to me."

He thought back to the day before, where they'd been and what she could have possibly wanted. He knew that she had the habit of being a bit of a cat burglar, but once she figured out that Clint was even better he never heard the end of it.

"Come on, please? I had to kiss an old thug."

"I know, I watched you. You're young, you can handle kissing a few old thugs."

Natasha gave Clint a hard shove, and the pair stumbled back to their hotel laughing.

o

Natasha never had any trouble sleeping, which he always found odd. She was such an alert young woman, so quick to jump to her feet… and then she slept like a rock. He rarely found himself getting four hours of sleep a night, instead taking catnaps when he could. He prodded the fire a few more times to ensure it would keep going before he threw on his jacket and left.

Breaking into museums always seemed like a joke, and he wondered if one day they'd put some real security in the places. Most of them in Budapest didn't even have cameras. He jigged open the back window and silently jumped in. It was an easy stroll to the main jewelry chambers, and he knew at only a glance exactly what she wanted.

It was a tiny ring, but it was by far the most radiant thing in the whole room. It was made of two thin twisted bands of gold adorned by a single perfectly cut ruby at the top. He smiled to himself - she was going to love it.

o

He had a sinking feeling in his stomach and for some reason he knew it wasn't because he just watched Natasha kiss another thug. The man was crafty and much smarter than all of the other, renowned for his wit. When he tried to warn her, to prepare her or do anything of the sort she just turned to him, one eyes done up in make up and the other still natural, and gave him a smile. She then turned back to the mirror and continued to paint her face, knowing too well that he would shut right up - she had him wrapped around her finger.

When timer was at forty three minutes, Clint felt his heart stop. He saw Natasha's form in one of the bedroom windows of the mansion, stumbling and falling against the wall. She struggled once to get up, her hand clutched to her head, before she fell back down. In an instant he was on the ground and in the building, desperately tearing down the hall with no care of anything else. The hallway felt endless as his mind was in fireworks - he couldn't even remember which room they were in. In all of the years, nothing bad had ever happened to Natasha. _Nothing. _She was perfect, and she always managed to make her way flawlessly out of any mistake. Clint had broken himself time and time again, but not her.

Finally he threw open the right door, shooting the man at point blank and throwing the gun against the wall, swearing loudly. His hands were shaking violently and his breath was ragged and scared -he felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Natasha was on the floor covered in blood - which belonged to the gangster - and seemingly unconscious. Reflexively he threw her over his shoulder and pulled out another gun, dashing into the hallway.

As he turned the corner there was a loud burst of Hungarian that Clint didn't understand accompanied by an array of gunshots. He felt a warmth in his lower back and leg, but didn't take any time to consider any injury. Instead he shot twice behind him - judging by the amount of gunfire he assumed that there were two of them - and as the sound bounced off of the walls and faded to silence he knew that he had managed to shoot them both blind.

With great effort he threw Natasha out of the window and followed behind her, finding that the snows were not as soft and cushioning as they always looked. He could feel the hot blood dripping down his back and leg and could see the dark red seeping through his abdomen into his crisp white shirt. He picked up Natasha again and slowly made his way back to the hotel through the back alley, shivering every time he heard a screaming siren back towards the gala mansion.

o

Every time he poked the fire, he could help but wince. The bullet had shot right through his back and come clean out the other side, missing his intestines but still managing to be incredibly painful. He had no doubt that there was some internal bleeding, but Fury would be sending someone in the morning so he didn't really care much. He had managed to bandage himself up enough to stagger down to a take away restaurant and get something to eat, before limping back up to check on Natasha.

She was out like a light, but she had only received a gunshot wound on her arm which he was able to tie up well enough. He stripped her of her awful red dress and put her into one of his t-shirts, as he didn't know what she preferred to sleep in. Well, that was a lie: he slept next to her every night and knew all too well what she liked to sleep in, but he liked how she looked wearing his clothes. He was always the klutz getting shot at and injured, usually the one who woke up delirious and confused after some form of makeshift surgery. It was rather surreal to have her passed out on the bed, sleeping like a kitten and completely defenseless. He even tried to wake her up but it was no use - she was drugged.

After a few hours of slowly eating and staring at the fire, he finally heard her stir. She coughed a few times and rolled over to face him, her eyes vacant and expression scared.

"Wha… what happened?"

She whispered, trying to move her arm and finding a tightly tied bandage. Clint slid over to her and put his hand on her arm.

"Don't worry, they have no record of us being there. There's a bit of our blood on the floor, but they won't be smart enough to get any DNA tests done. I blew the cameras before I went in and I killed -" For a moment he faltered, recalling that he had actually only shot the ganger in the neck, and he could have been alive. He wouldn't disclose that to Fury, "And I killed the gangster."

Natasha sat up, holding her head in her hands as she began to cry. Natasha wasn't the kind of woman who cried.

"I-I don't know what he did, what it was. It was like a horror movie it was… voices echoed and I couldn't breath and it felt like he was touching every inch of my skin at once with needles and…"

Clint pulled her into a hug, holding her as she sobbed, "I don't know what he gave you Natasha, but it obviously wasn't just some run of the mill roofie. He knew who you were and knew you were coming…"

"I.. screwed up. I never screw up, Clint. I'm not supposed to screw anything up."

Clint let go of her and backed away, grabbing the remainder of the food he had bought.

"Look, Nat… Don't worry about it. We took him down, Fury will be here soon… we don't have to tell him about what happened. I grabbed some perogies from that Ukrainian take away place, want some?"

Natasha looked at him suspiciously before moving over, hungrily grabbing the food. Clint sat in silence, occasionally adding another log to the fire and watching his counterpart, trying to determine if anything was wrong.

"I got you something…" He said quietly, feeling around in his pocket. After a moment he pulled out a single gold ring topped with a perfect ruby. Natasha dropped the food and grabbed it from him.

"How did you? I don't get it.. when did you?" Her words trailed off as she slipped it onto her finger, admiring it in the firelight. The ruby sparkled more than a diamond, reflecting in Natasha's wide eyes.

"The other night when you were sleeping. Just thought I'd slip out and get something for you. Is it the right one?"

"It's the right one. How did you know it's the one I wanted?"

He took her hand, running his other hand through her hair on the back of her head.

"Because it's beautiful, Natasha… it's beautiful like you."

She stared at him dumbstruck, her hands frozen in front of her. Clint assumed he probably looked just as shocked, as he hadn't really meant to let those exact words out of his mouth. He was thinking them - that was definite - but he never really had any intention of bringing it any further than that. She broke eye contact, looking at the ground.

"Clint.. don't start that, we can't afford to start that…"

Abruptly he let go of her, looking at the wall. They'd fringed on the subject, flirted around it for years, but both of them had the sense to never actually go near it.

"Look, Clint. I'm going to bed. Wake me up when Fury comes in the morning."

She stood up fell into the bed gracefully, shifting under the covers and scooting as far as she could towards the wall. Clint sighed and turned back to the fire, wondering what exactly had come over him.

He'd had a girlfriend once upon a time. He couldn't remember quite but she looked like but she always smelled like spice and tasted like roses. She was an acrobat in the circus he performed with as a child; he had a brother as well. He remembered shooting arrows at apples and running through the forests, climbing up trees as far as they could before jumping off and doing as many spins and tricks as possible. Now his life consisted of Nick Fury and Natasha, that was all he had. He never really knew what happened to anyone else, but a part of him didn't particularly care - he was more than content with his partner in crime.

He snapped out of his reverie violently to the sound of Natasha thrashing and whimpering. Alarmed, he ran over and leaned over her on his knees, trying to shake her awake. She never dreamed, he knew that much, so nightmares were even more rare. When she had them she would usually wake up with a sombre look, staying quiet for the morning until she regained her composure.

"Nat.. Nat wake up, you're having a nightmare. _Nat." _

Her eyes snapped open, tears running down her face. She put her arms around him, pulling him down on top of her.

"Oh god Clint I… they took you. They took you away. It was _real. _It felt real. Never leave me. Just never leave."

Again, having absolutely no idea what he was doing, he kissed her. She smelled of sweat instead of make-up and her lips were chapped, her body covered by his old t-shirt. There was nothing more in the world he wanted at that moment. He could feel his bare legs against hers, his hands aching to run their way from her ankle to thigh. He could feel her breasts against his chest through the t-shirt, her musky hair against his cheek.

But it wasn't an 'I want you' kiss, no. It was a 'never leave me' kiss, mixed with tears and insecurity and an undying need to be loved. His hands stayed on her shoulders and hers on his neck until they broke away, unsaid words flashing between them in their fierce eye contact.

Reluctantly he lay down beside her, pulling her as close as he possible could. They fit together like a puzzle, legs interlocking and her face against his neck like it was meant to be there. He could feel her hot breath and wet lips, but he knew better than to push his luck.

"Never leave me Clint…" she said again, her hand clasped tightly on his arm, "you are the only man I will ever trust for the rest of my life. You're the only one."

It was in that moment that Clint saw the last of the care-free, innocent Natasha. As if all it took was the blink of an eye, her gaze grew cold and distant. She looked into his eyes one last time before closing them, the ring on her finger still dancing like her sequined dress in the firelight.

_Budapest was truly a different time… _

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A/N: Not a oneshot, more to come. Follow my tumblr for updates, news, rants: tcorgin


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